


I'll Be Your Sounding Board

by Wolfling



Series: You Still Have Me [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, post 3b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1492261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfling/pseuds/Wolfling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So far though Stiles seemed to be dealing by concentrating on being there for <em>Scott</em> and Scott couldn't say he hadn't found his presence a balm. He may have been a little quieter, a little less frenetic, but he was still <em>Stiles</em> and Scott would <em>always</em> find his presence a comfort. And if Stiles helping him in turn helped Stiles, that was just a bonus Scott would take gratefully.</p>
<p>It didn't stop him wishing that Stiles would let him help in a more direct way though.</p>
<p>The memorial was the first chance Stiles gave him to do just that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Your Sounding Board

Three days later there was a memorial service for all those killed at the hospital and sheriff's station by the oni. Not that the general public knew about the oni. The two most popular theories for the massacre being brandied about in the media were either some kind of Yakuza power play or a bunch of spree killers obsessed with Japanese horror stories. 

"That isn't really all that far from the truth," Stiles had pointed out, when they had discussed it the night before. "Just have to change 'obsessed with' to 'straight out of' and you wouldn't be wrong."

Stiles had been staying close, ever since that first day after when he'd shown up at Scott's in response to Scott's barely coherent voice mail. Scott was more than grateful for it. He was still reeling from Allison's death (and part of him was sure he always would be) and having Stiles there where Scott could reassure himself that he hadn't lost his best friend as well sometimes felt like it was the only thing keeping him together. 

And Stiles was being incredibly understanding about the way Scott would almost zone out staring at him or at the sound of his voice. Not to mention the sniffing.

Oh god, the sniffing. Somewhere during this whole mess, Stiles' scent had changed from something that had always just been there -- ever present like the very air -- to something that Scott _needed_ like a little kid needed his security blanket. Scott could function without it, but he found he wasn't completely at ease unless he had it right there with him. Which led to an awful lot more sniffing of his best friend than was probably appropriate or polite, even for a werewolf. 

It wasn't something he was always completely conscious of doing either. More than once he'd only realize that he was doing it after he had leaned over and buried his face against Stiles' neck or shoulder.

Stiles didn't take offence. He'd waved off Scott's first apology for doing so and every one after until finally telling him bluntly to stop apologizing, that he really didn't mind. In fact, Stiles started going out of his way to accommodate Scott's weird new scent fixation, even going so far to leave his hoodie at Scott's when he went home at night, borrowing one of Scott's jackets instead. Scott didn't tell him that he'd worn it to bed that night, but he didn't think Stiles would have been surprised that he had. Stiles seemed to understand the whole thing better than Scott himself did, but really that was nothing new.

What it all boiled down to was that as much as it hurt to lose Allison that was how good it felt to have Stiles back. Still, he knew that the whole possession ordeal had to have left scars and Scott was determined to be there for Stiles while he dealt with the fallout in whatever way he could. 

So far though Stiles seemed to be dealing by concentrating on being there for _Scott_ and Scott couldn't say he hadn't found his presence a balm. He may have been a little quieter, a little less frenetic, but he was still _Stiles_ and Scott would _always_ find his presence a comfort. And if Stiles helping him in turn helped Stiles, that was just a bonus Scott would take gratefully.

It didn't stop him wishing that Stiles would let him help in a more direct way though.

The memorial was the first chance Stiles gave him to do just that.

It started the night before, when they were talking logistics about meeting up with everyone. Stiles had grown progressively quieter during the conversation until he finally said, "I don't even know if I should come."

"What?" Scott stared at Stiles who wasn't looking at him, his eyes focused on his fingers picking a loose thread in his jeans. "Why?"

Stiles gave a half shrug in response. "Just seems kind of tacky considering. I know you're going to say it wasn't my fault, but... the nogitsune attacked those places because it was going after people I cared about. And it did it wearing _my_ face. Maybe it's not my fault but... it still feels like my responsibility."

"It's not," Scott insisted, slinging an arm around Stiles' shoulders.

That pulled a smile out of Stiles but only briefly. "Told you, I knew you were going to say that. It still feels like it though."

Scott couldn't argue that Stiles' didn't feel what he obviously did, so he changed tactics. "Nobody's going to think it's tacky if you go."

"That's because they don't know what really happened," Stiles pointed out. "They're still stuck on psychotic Japanese horror aficionados."

"Even if they did know," Scott countered. "Especially if they knew."

Stiles sighed and allowed himself to lean into Scott a little more. "Maybe I'm the one who thinks it's tacky."

Yeah, that was what Scott had thought Stiles had really meant. "Do you not want to go?" he asked, fully prepared to skip the memorial entirely if that's what Stiles needed. "We don't have to if-"

"I want to," Stiles interrupted. "I do, really, it's just..." He trailed off, making grabby motions with his hands as if he could grasp the words to explain out of thin air.

He didn't need to for Scott to understand. "You feel responsible."

Stiles nodded. "I don't know how I'm going to be able to look anybody in the eye, even if they don't know what happened."

"You don't have to," Scott told him. He could practically see the weight of what happened still pressing down on Stiles and would do anything to be able to lighten it for him. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I kinda do," Stiles said, looking up to meet Scott's gaze then quickly ducking his head to look at his hands again. "Not the ones who aren't in the know maybe, but those that are. Ethan. Mr. Argent. I want.... I _need_ to be able to look them in the eye and apologize." He held up a hand to forestall any comments Scott could make. "Even if you don't think I have anything to apologize for. I need to be able to do it and... I'm not sure I can."

"Hey," Scott said, tightening the arm he still had slung around Stiles' shoulders. "It's okay. If you can't, they'll understand." He wanted to tell Stiles that he didn't need to, but it was obvious that Stiles thought he did and if doing so helped him in some way, then it was worth doing. "But I think you can."

It was obviously the right thing to say because some of the tension he could feel thrumming in Stiles seemed to ease at that. "Thanks," he said softly, still looking at his hands instead of at Scott. 

"Do you want me to go with you?" Scott asked. "I mean obviously I'm going to the memorial with you, but do you want me with you when you do that, y'know, apologize?"

That got Stiles to look at him. "You'd do that?" he asked, wide eyed.

"Dude, of course. Anything you need that I can help with... You know that."

Even more of the tension in Stiles eased. "I don't say this nearly often enough, but you're the best best friend anybody could hope to have." He took a deep breath. "I know I should probably do it alone, but yeah, I want you there. Thanks."

"Any time," Scott replied. Then, judging that was probably as much emotional stuff as either of them were capable of dealing with just then, Scott got to his feet and pulled Stiles with him. "Come on. Let's go raid the kitchen. I'm starving."

Stiles gave a small fond laugh that was at least half relieved at the change of subject. "A werewolf metabolism is a scary and wondrous thing. Okay, let's get you fed."

*****

There was a huge turn out for the memorial, showing that the havoc the nogitsune and oni had wreaked had been big enough to pierce the 'pretend it's not happening and it'll go away' attitude that so many Beacon Hills residents seemed to have adopted.

Most of Scott's family, friends and pack had staked up spots near the front, but Stiles hadn't seemed able to bring himself to move any closer than lurking in the back so that was where Scott was as well, planted firmly at his best friend's side.

The sheriff had shot him a grateful look when he had left them to make his way to the front. Given that one of the main focuses of the attack had been the police station, he hadn't had the choice of fading to the back, though it was obvious he wanted to be there for Stiles. It meant something that he trusted Scott with that responsibility when he couldn't do it, and Scott took it seriously.

"You doing okay?" Scott asked as he watched Stiles wrap his arms around himself as he stared at the people around them.

The question seemed to startle Stiles out of whatever thoughts he was dwelling on because he turned sharply to look at Scott and just stared at him for a moment. "I'm still standing," he finally replied with a half hearted ghost of his usual grin. "You?"

And of course Stiles even when he was struggling with what had been done to him and the guilt it left concerned himself with Scott's well being. Scott made a show of looking down at his own feet before answering. "I'm still standing too." 

That got a more genuine smile out of Stiles and had him leaning into Scott's personal space until their shoulders brushed. The touch seemed to calm him down somehow and he took a deep breath before saying, "There's a lot more people here than I thought there would be. I... kinda had tunnel vision about who got hurt, y'know? Like my brain couldn't focus on any more than Al-" He stopped abruptly on the first syllable of the name, and swallowed hard before continuing, "the ones I knew. But the nogitsune did a lot more damage than that."

"It wasn't your fault," Scott said immediately, as firmly as he could.

Stiles sighed. "I know. I just... it's hard to see the fallout regardless." He went back to looking around them with an almost speculative look on his face. As if doing some kind of emotional math or something.

Judging that more physical contact would be good -- for a distraction if nothing else -- Scott slid an arm around Stiles' shoulders. "It wasn't your fault," he said again, putting all his belief into every syllable.

Stiles sighed and let himself lean against Scott's side. "You... might have to keep telling me that for a while," he admitted softly with raw honesty.

"As long as you need me to," Scott promised. 

They stayed like that through the rest of the ceremony and Scott found Stiles' warmth and scent a comfort and hoped he'd provided some comfort to Stiles as well. From the way he stayed close, Scott thought he did.

Stiles only moved away from him when the ceremony ended and the crowd started to disburse. Scott followed the direction of his gaze and saw he was looking at where his father was talking solemnly to Mr. Argent. "Do you want to go talk to him? Or do you want to just go?" Scott asked as gently and non-judgmentally as he could. 

Stiles seemed caught, biting his lip in indecision. "I-"

"Stiles," a new voice interrupted him and Scott startled a little when he realized it was Kira's mom. He'd been so focused on Stiles that he hadn't heard anyone approach them. 

"Mrs. Yukimura," he greeted her warily, unconsciously taking a step closer to Stiles. He didn't think she was going to do anything to hurt Stiles, but it wasn't so long ago that she would have cheerfully killed him and Scott wasn't willing to completely let his guard down around her and his best friend yet.

"Scott," she greeted him with a nod and a look that was calmly assessing, before turning her attention back to Stiles who was watching her with as much wariness as Scott himself felt. "I wish to talk to you, Stiles, if that's all right?"

Stiles looked caught between curiosity and caution. "Scott stays," he finally said, and Scott found some of his sudden tension ease at that. Mostly because it meant he didn't have to make that condition himself.

Mrs. Yukimura nodded readily enough. "Of course."

"Okay," Stiles said, waving a hand in a 'go ahead' gesture. "So talk."

It was Mrs. Yukimura who was hesitant now. "The nogitsune was my fault and my responsibility. I am the one who originally summoned it," she finally began. "The responsibility for any and all damage it caused is likewise my responsibility. What it did to you is my responsibility."

Stiles was usually the one who did the talking but this time he merely frowned at her while it was Scott who couldn't help but speak up. "You tried to kill him," he reminded her. "You tried to get _me_ to kill him."

Her eyes flicked to him. "Yes." They flicked back to Stiles. "Because I thought there was no other way."

"It's okay," Stiles said, as if trying to kill him wasn't a big deal and Scott had to bite his tongue to keep from protesting. "Up to a point. If that's what it would have taken to stop it, I... I would have wanted that. But not for Scott to have had to do it." He glanced over at Scott and then back to Mrs. Yukimura. "He didn't deserve that." Scott felt his heart ache at that.

"No," Mrs. Yukimura agreed. "He did not. And neither did you." It was her turn to glance at Scott now and there was a bit more warmth in her voice when she continued. "I am glad he found another way."

"Yeah, that's what Scott does," Stiles said, his own voice warming as well to match the small fond smile that was suddenly on his face. "If he doesn't agree with something he always finds another way. He's stubborn like that."

"He is a good friend," Mrs. Yukimura said. "I owe him -- I owe all of you a debt for stopping the nogitsune. More importantly, I owe you all an apology for the losses it visited upon you. Especially you, Stiles."

"Me?" Stiles said, eyes wide in surprise. He shook his head. "No. I'm not.. I didn't... I don't deserve-"

"You do," she insisted, as implacable in this as she had been in her certainty that they would have to kill Stiles. This time, at least, Scott could agree with her. "You were its victim more than anyone. The only thing blame could be laid at your feet for would be granting the tree power enough that the nogitsune was able to escape. But you did that unknowing of the consequences, while I knew full well what I was calling forth when I summoned it in my grief. The blame is mine. As is the debt." Her voice went hard on her next words, more of a demand than a plea as she pulled herself to her full height. "Will you accept my apology?"

Stiles just gaped at her for a moment as if finding her words hard to compute. He glanced sideways at Scott, then back at Mrs. Yukimura, before finally nodding.

Mrs. Yukimura did nothing so obvious as sighing in relief, but that was still the impression Scott got from her reaction. "Thank you," she said, nodding her head at both of them before walking away. Scott watched her move gracefully through the crowd, heading in Mr. Argent's direction. 

"Looks like someone else had the same idea you did," he observed.

"Yeah," Stiles said, sounding distracted and when Scott looked at him, he could see he was watching Mrs. Yukimura as well. "It does."

"Stiles?" Scott asked after a moment.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

Stiles seemed to shake himself at that. "Yeah," he said, his attention focusing once again on Scott. "Just... can we maybe leave now? Or if you want to go talk to everyone, I can-"

"No," Scott interrupted, cutting off the nervous Stiles-esque flow of words before he could really get going. "We can go." 

Stiles blew out all of his breath in one long sigh. "Thanks. I just... I think I need to be somewhere that is not here."

"No problem," Scott said, hand dropping to the middle of Stiles back, gently prodding him into motion, heading towards the nearest exit. "Let's go."

It was only when they were outside and halfway to where they'd parked the jeep, that Stiles stopped short again. "Oh shit, my dad," he said, half turning around to go back. "I can't just take off without..."

"Call him," Scott said. 

"Shit. Right. I can call him." He dug his phone out of his pants pocket. "God, I don't know where my head is at right now." He pressed his dad's number and Scott eavesdropped shamelessly to the ensuing phone call. 

"Stiles," the sheriff answered with after only one ring.

"I'm fine, Dad," was the first thing that Stiles said, in such a rehearsed way that Scott wondered if that had become his default way of greeting his father. "I just wanted to let you know that Scott and I are leaving."

"Did something happen?" Scott could picture the sheriff's worried frown from his tone alone.

"No," Stiles hastily assured him. Then a second later, "Well, yes. Sorta. But it's not like it was anything bad. Not really. I just... I need to think about it and I can't do that here so..."

"Okay. That's okay, son. I told you before we came that if you needed to leave you could go ahead and do it. No judging." He paused. "Scott's with you?"

"Yes Dad, Scott is with me. I'm not running off alone to do....whatever it is you're imagining I'd be running off alone to do."

"I'm not imagining anything."

"Sure you are," Stiles argued. "And it's okay. I would be too. Scott's with me, we'll probably just go back and hang at his place. If we end up doing anything else, I'll call and let you know, okay?"

There was a pause, like the sheriff was thinking about arguing the point, but then he just sighed and said, "Okay. Love you, kid."

Stiles smiled at that. "Love you too, Dad. I'll talk to you later." Then he hung up and looked at Scott. "You so eavesdropped didn't you?"

Scott didn't deny it, instead just shrugged. "Perils of having a best friend who's a werewolf. Sorry."

"Don't be," Stiles told him, resuming walking in the direction of the jeep. "I'm probably the last one who should be offended about someone eavesdropping me considering all the eavesdropping I've done over the years and I don't even have the werewolf senses excuse."

Neither of them said anything else until they had reached the jeep and climbed inside. "It's okay that we go back to yours, right?" Stiles asked as he put the key in the ignition.

"Of course," Scott said. "Any time." 

"Thanks," Stiles said. He pulled the jeep out of the parking spot and headed for the exit to the street. "I just... I need to think some stuff through and there's too much," he waved the hand that wasn't on the steering wheel around for emphasis, "shit that reminds me of everything at home."

Scott nodded in agreement, then a moment later thought to point out, "You sure my house isn't as bad? You did get.. uh..."

"Puked up in rotting bandages and seventy year old clothes by the nogitsune in the middle of your living room?" Stiles filled in for him.

"Yeah. That. That doesn't bother you?"

"You'd think it would, wouldn't it? But no, not so much." Stiles frowned at that. "Weird, huh?"

Scott couldn't help but snort a little at that. "Dude, our whole lives are weird."

Stiles let out a bark of laughter at that too. "Weirder than usual lately. But... I guess maybe that's _so_ weird, it breaks the curve or something."

"That would do it if anything could," Scott agreed. Because yeah, that was going to be the top of freaky happenings for a very long time. Possibly forever. 

"Or maybe," Stiles continued more hesitantly a moment later, "it's because that was when I got me back, while my house just reminds me of how long I was losing me even before we knew what was happening."

And oh, that made far too much sense and when put like that Scott wondered how Stiles could stand to be at home as much as he did. He didn't know really what to say to that though so he just reached over and squeezed Stiles' hand. 

A moment or two more passed before Stiles pointed out, "Dude, you're holding my hand." He didn't however make any move to pull away.

"Yeah," Scott agreed readily. "Is that a problem?"

"No. I'm actually surprisingly okay with it. Huh. Still... just thought I should point it out."

"Duly noted," Scott said and continued to hold Stiles' hand until Stiles had to pull away to turn onto another street at the intersection. 

As soon as the steering wheel straightened out again however, Stiles was reaching for his hand again. Despite everything, Scott found himself smiling the rest of the drive back to his place.

Stiles actually led the way inside the house when they got there, using his own key to unlock the door. Once inside he headed immediately up the stairs to Scott's room and flopped down on the bed. Scott followed, settling in the chair by the bed and watching Stiles.

After a few moments of silence where Scott started to wonder if Stiles was falling asleep, Stiles rolled over onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow. "Were you just going to sit in that chair and watch me lie here thinking without saying anything?"

"Yes?" 

"Of course you were." Stiles give him a tiny fond smile. "You really are like way too good for me, y'know?"

Scott shook his head in denial. "I'm really not. You've done the same for me."

Stiles inclined his head as if conceding the point. "I just meant you don't have to just sit there and watch me."

"Oh." Scott popped to his feet. "Do you want to be alone? Because I can go-"

"It's your room, Scotty."

"I know, but I can still go if you-"

"Scott. Chill. I don't want to be alone. It's pretty much the last thing I want." He shifted up into a sitting position and patted the bed beside him.

Scott took the invitation for what it was and stopped edging towards the door and instead coming over and sitting beside Stiles. "Okay."

"Thanks."

Scott nodded. He thought about taking Stiles' hand again, but that just seemed a little too... something. Weird. Whatever. "Do you want to talk?" he asked instead.

"Yes?" Stiles frowned. "I mean I kinda do, I just don't know if I'd be making much sense. I'm still trying to sort it all out in here." He gestured at his own head.

"It's okay," Scott said. "I'm used to listening to you not make sense."

"That's probably not as reassuring as you thought it would be," Stiles told him, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way!" he objected once he replayed what he said and realized how it could be taken. "Just... I'm used to you talking over my head when you're trying to figure something out and using me as a sounding board. I don't worry about it because you always eventually explain everything that doesn't make sense."

Stiles paused. "Okay, placing higher on the reassuring scale now."

"So talk," Scott bade. "If it doesn't make any sense to either of us, I can ask stupid and obvious questions until you figure it all out."

That earned him a brief smile, there and gone. "And you just maxed out the reassuring scale. Okay, you asked for it." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm trying to figure out why Mrs. Yukimura basically absolving me of responsibility for what happened makes me feel so bad. Worse than I did before she said that."

"What do you mean by worse? Bad how?" Scott asked when Stiles didn't immediately continue.

"Kind of panicky? Like if I think too closely about it I might freak out." Stiles shook his head. "Which probably means I shouldn't think about it, but..."

"The idea that it freaks you out is freaking you out."

" _Yes_." Stiles pointed a finger at him. "That. It's like the Russian nesting dolls of freaking out."

Scott leaned in so their shoulders brushed. "Okay. Two things we can do. I can either try and distract you so you don't think about it at all..."

"Or?" Stiles leaned back, making the contact between them more firm.

"We unpack the nesting dolls and find out what's at the center and if you freak out, I'll be here to talk you down."

Stiles sighed and rested his head against Scott's shoulder. "You have no idea how much I want to pick option number one right now."

"But you're going with option number two," Scott said with a nod.

Stiles nodded and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I'm going with option two."

Scott bumped his shoulder again and, when Stiles didn't say anything else, asked, " So why does it make you feel panicky? Do you think she's lying when she says it's not your fault?"

"No," Stiles said, shaking his head. "I'm pretty sure she was telling the truth as she saw it."

That was an interesting way to put it and Scott latched onto that. "But not as you see it."

Stiles gave a half shrug. "I can't just be... not responsible. Not after everything that happened. That I remember doing."

"It wasn't you," Scott argued. He would keep telling Stiles that for as long as he needed to hear it to stop blaming himself.

"I know, but when I actually remember what it's like to twist a sword that's impaled in my best friend, it's kind of hard to accept that I'm not at least a little responsible."

Scott couldn't completely suppress a shiver at the memory Stiles' words conjured up though it wasn't for the reasons Stiles probably thought it was. "Do you know what the worst thing about that was?" he asked, then continued before Stiles could answer. "Sure it hurt, but that was just pain. I'm a werewolf, I heal. The worst thing was looking into your eyes and seeing something else looking back. And not knowing what that meant for you."

"Of course you'd be more worried about me than the sword I was twisting in your torso," Stiles said in that exasperated but fond tone Scott had been hearing from him for years.

"It wasn't you," Scott said again because he had decided at the beginning of this that he was never going to let Stiles get away with blaming himself even a little bit.

Stiles rolled his eyes at that. "Whether it was me or not, it was this hand," he said holding up his right hand and wriggling his fingers. Then he paused and frowned at it. "Or reasonable facsimile thereof, since I'm still not sure if this is my original body or not and I'm going to stop that train of thought right here because I am so not ready to deal with the existential crisis caused by being puked up by what I thought was my body and then eventually watching that body turn to dust."

Scott blinked. He hadn't really thought about it once they'd confirmed that Stiles was Stiles and started thinking about the other one as just the nogitsune, but yeah that had to be really weird. "You're right, that is messed up."

"I know right?" Stiles said with a little bit of customary Stiles flail. "I mean I feel like me and I look like me, right down to all my scars and moles-"

"You smell like you too," Scott put in.

"-and I smell like me, thanks, doesn't hurt to have another bit of corroborating data, so for all intents and purposes I am me, but yeah. I try not to think about it too much because that way leads to the freakout to end all freakouts, trust me." 

Scott could well imagine. "Hey," he said, throwing an arm around Stiles' shoulders, "It doesn't matter. I'm still me and you're still you. You love me even though I grow hair and claws and I love you even though you were puked up by a nogitsune. The important stuff is still the same."

Stiles seemed to instinctively curl closer against Scott's side. "That... actually does help with that part," he said sounding a little surprised. "Thanks."

"Any time," Scott said, tightening his arm around Stiles. "It's what I'm here for."

They were both silent for a minute before Stiles observed, "We really have got off the original topic."

"I know," Scott said honestly.

Stiles pulled back enough to be able to look at Scott's face. "You didn't call me on it."

Scott shrugged. "I just figured maybe you weren't as ready to talk about it as you thought. I didn't want to push."

Stiles gave a soft huff of laughter. "I appreciate the concern Scotty, but sometimes I need the push."

"Like now?" Scott asked.

"Maybe," Stiles said. He fell silent then for long enough that Scott had opened his mouth to give him the requested push when he blurted out, "I know why none of it being my fault freaks me out."

"Why?" Scott asked as Stiles obviously wanted him to.

"If part of the blame is mine that means I did something wrong. And if I did something wrong, that means there's something right I could've done instead." He paused. "That I could do if it happened again. Then the worst won't happen again because I can make different, better choices and avoid that. But if I'm not responsible, it means I didn't do anything wrong. It means I did everything right and the worst _still_ happened and there was nothing I could've done to stop it. It means I was just a _victim_ and no matter if I do everything right or not it could happen again. Well, probably not that exactly, but in general." He met Scott's eyes. "It's about control. If I'm at least partially to blame then yeah, I dropped the ball, but at least I'm in the game." He frowned. "Does that make any sense outside my head?"

"Yeah," Scott said softly. If there was one thing he understood, it was the fear of losing control. 

"Don't get me wrong, I know that's messed up. _I'm_ messed up," Stiles said. "After everything that happened, I think I'd be more worried if I wasn't. I'd probably benefit from a lot of therapy."

"Well that's nothing new," Scott deadpanned, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Stiles rolled his eyes and shoved him and Scott obligingly let himself tumble back onto the bed. "Funny."

"I thought so," Scott said with a grin.

"Well you thought wrong. Give up the dreams of doing stand up and stick to Alpha-ing," Stiles told him then pounced.

What followed was some weird cross between a tickle fight and a wrestling match. Scott made an effort not to use too much of his werewolf strength, but even if he had, in this kind of fight they probably would still have been pretty closely matched. Stiles knew every ticklish spot he had and he was clever and sneaky enough to exploit that knowledge.

They ended up lying on the bed side by side, both their heads hanging over the edge of the mattress, trying to catch their breaths, echos of their laughter still ringing in Scott's ears. It was one of those moments that Scott knew he'd think of when he thought of things he was grateful for in the future. 

That as messed up and damaged as they both were, they still had this. He and Stiles still had each other.

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](http://fwolfling.tumblr.com/).


End file.
